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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28943739">This Fragile World</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipfloppandas/pseuds/flipfloppandas'>flipfloppandas</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Ball</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bonding, F/M, Falling In Love, First Time, Mild Language, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:21:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,892</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28943739</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipfloppandas/pseuds/flipfloppandas</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Twelve things Broly experienced for the first time.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Broly/Cheelai (Dragon Ball)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Am I super late on this pairing? Yes I am. Does that make me love them any less? No sir!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Home -</strong>
</p><p>Somehow, Broly was back on Vampa.</p><p>He looked around to be sure, but he was indeed. It was a bit jarring, to finally understand just how unfamiliar scenery could possibly be, made only more apparent when he was back to the only place that ever <em>had</em> been familiar.  </p><p>It was all the same, just as he had left it. Same stony plateaus and caves, same blazing yellow sky, same pools of soft green, the same low, ever present growl of something dangerous off in the distance.</p><p>It was Vampa. There was no point in doubting himself. This place was the only surety in his life. </p><p>He did not understand. Just as he was sure that this was Vampa, he was just as equally sure that he should not be here. He had left from this place, had been promised that he would never see it again, and yet here he was. It did not make sense.</p><p>He tried to sort through his memories. There couldn't have been that many, but it felt like there were thousands of them flitting through his thoughts. Perhaps it was because they were so very new, not at all like the memories he was used to making for the majority of his life. He wouldn't know, would he?</p><p>He swam through the haze of images. Many were blurry, running together like the shades of the sky, but some things stuck out clearly enough. He remembered a ship that flew through space the same way he flew through the air. He remembered a world of white with cold air unlike any he had ever felt before.</p><p>He remembered the saiyans. He remembered the quirks of their smiles and the looks in their eyes. </p><p>He remembered pain. He remembered lots of pain.</p><p>Then he remembered he saw a light, brighter than any other he had ever seen. He remembered feeling fear. He remembered being so sure he was going to die in that moment.</p><p> Then he was here, back on Vampa, like none of that had happened at all.</p><p>Perhaps it had actually killed him, that blinding lights. Perhaps the afterlife was a reflection of the life you’ve lived. Or maybe the reality of death was that you simply lived out the rest of eternity wherever you wanted to be most.</p><p>He had wanted to come back here. He never said it, not to anyone, but it was true. How could he have said it? How could he have ever told his father, who was so overjoyed that they would never again set foot in this place?</p><p>Father.</p><p>Father.</p><p>Father...</p><hr/><p>First, Broly tended to his more serious wounds. Given that he and his father did not ever have the things called "medicine", he had been taught to never leave a wound uncared for. He cleaned and stitched what needed stitching and bandaged everything else.</p><p>Once that was done, he did what he always did.</p><p>He killed bugs to eat. He chased away the ones that came too close to his shelter. He practiced his katas. He stared at the sky. He listened to the sound of Baa growling and snapping at the creatures that bothered him off in the distance.</p><p>He did everything he usually did, and Father did not join in with any of it. Father did not come back.</p><p>Broly was not a child. He understood death. He understood the finality of it, the process of birth and life and the way it all ended. He understood how it was all one big circle, how one thing affected another, and how no one or anything was above the world's design.</p><p>He understood it all, yet now that he was faced with it, he found it hard to believe. Was Earth even real? The unreliable quality of his memories and the unanswered questions made him doubt it. If Earth wasn't real, if all the events that transpired in between were not real, then surely his father’s death was not real as well?</p><p>The hours passed. The days passed. Time flowed and still his father was gone.</p><p>Father was dead. Broly was alone.</p><p>Broly did not think he had ever been alone like this before.</p><p>Broly had wanted to come back to Vampa since the moment they left. He could never muster the visceral hatred his father seemingly had for this place. For Broly, there was nothing to like or dislike about it. Vampa simply <em>was</em>.</p><p>Father was different though. He talked often about Planet Vegeta, about the many places in the universe he had been. He talked of hundreds of animals and plants, all different shapes, all different colors, all different flavors and scents and sensations. He talked of other saiyans. He talked of other species altogether. He talked of women, of household comforts, of all the way a person could be entertained, of all the possibilities that lived just beyond the barrier of their atmosphere.</p><p>Broly always listened attentively, but he never understood the appeal. How could food possibly taste better than what he was already eating now? What did he need of women? What use was soft blankets and running liquid? What need did he have of the galaxy aside from the sight of the glowing stars dotting the night sky? What more did he need aside from what he already had?</p><p>No, Broly did not hate Vampa, and ever since they had left, he had wanted to go back. Even now, he did not miss the experience he had left behind.</p><p>Admittedly, there were nice things he experienced, like the water and the food bar and the soap from the shower that smelled good. Even so, there were just as many things that were not good: lights that were too bright, clothes that were too tight, mean people that hurt the people he liked, people that hurt <em>him</em>.</p><p>People that took his father from him.</p><p>No, he had no use for the world beyond this rocky scenery and hostile creatures. He had no use for it at all.</p><p>Yet, despite those thoughts, Vampa was tainted now. That was the only explanation for why he felt the way he did. Before, Vampa simply <em>was</em>. but now, it... <em>wasn't</em>. Something had changed, perhaps irreparably. </p><p>He felt it increasingly with each passing day. He felt it from the moment he woke, and the moment he slept. Something was wrong, off, so terribly not right. It was something in the persistent silence. It was something in the lack of another <em>ki</em> signature burning alongside his. It was something in his eyes only seeing these rocks and creatures and nothing else.</p><p>It was something he did not know how to fix.</p><hr/><p>By the third day—a windy one, the kind his father had hated the most—he wondered if the fault lied with him.</p><p>That must be it. Very little had changed, though he himself undoubtedly had. He was different from the man that had left this place what seemed like so long ago.</p><p>He was different, and yet he was all that was left. He was the only thing that had managed to return, yet he must have somehow returned wrong, and it was tainting everything else.</p><p>He wondered what the point was then. What was the point in being here, if the thing that made this place “<em>Vampa”</em> simply wasn't anymore? What did he even come back for, if everything was simply going to be ruined? How could he live every day like this, with this emptiness he would probably never figure out how to fill?</p><p>He didn't know. He didn't know. He didn't kn—</p><p>Someone was coming. </p><p>He shot to his feet, the leg he had been feasting on left forgotten on the ground. His eyes darted around the sky until they spotted the single dark mark marring the bright yellow.</p><p>It grew in color and design the closer it got, and for the second time in his life, Broly saw a craft capable of cutting through the stars.</p><p>The aircraft landed not far from him. Moments later, the door opened.</p><p>It was Lemo and Cheelai.</p><p>He released the breath he was holding, even as his heart began to pound. An energy flooded through his veins, reigniting his blood where the past few days had turned it stale.</p><p>They were <em>real</em>. Not that he had consciously doubted it, but he had just as equally refrained from accepting them as truths.</p><p>But they were. It all was real. That water they had given him... the light weight of Cheelai's hand on his pelt... the smiles on their faces... It was all real. <em>They</em> were real.</p><p>They did not look happy.</p><p>He froze, unsure what to do. They were not the saiyans. They were not like the rude man in the cafeteria. There were not Frieza. There were kind people, who shared their food with him, who listened to him speak, who <em>wanted</em> him too. They were like Baa, but able to speak back and put their kindness into words.</p><p>He did not know how to react to their unhappiness.</p><p>“Broly!” they screamed together, and Broly could do nothing but stare back.</p><p>They both darted from their ship, not even bothering to close the door, making a beeline straight for him. Cheelai was first, her legs younger and faster. She charged at him, and he wondered what he had done to make her so angry with him.</p><p>She barreled into his chest, and he let the impact rock him to his knees. Certainly, he deserved whatever attack she deemed fit. He could accept nothing less for upsetting such a kind person.</p><p>She did not attack him. Instead, she started to cry.</p><p>Broly was even more lost, and on the edge of panic. He looked to Lemo for an answer when the man finally caught up, but even he had tears in his eyes.</p><p>“Hey, kid,” Lemo said with a soft smile that seemed to be only for him. “Sorry we took so long.”</p><p>“We’re here now.” Cheelai said, sniffling. “We’re here.”</p><p>... They were. They were here now.</p><p>They were here, and somehow, the emptiness began to feel less empty, and the sense of wrong slowly drifted away with the wind.</p><p>TBC</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Trust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’m really sorry for the wait, y'all. I planned to have this out sooner, but then I spilled water on my laptop and broke it 🙃.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Trust -</strong>
</p><p>Their first point of contention in their budding friendship came when she attacked the pelt he wore around his waist.</p><p>Of course, she hadn't <em>really</em> attacked it, not physically, verbally, or otherwise. She wouldn't even have a reason to. She had always thought his story about a ferocious monster being his first best friend to be just as beautiful as it was painfully sad. She had absolutely nothing against the symbol of that beautifully sad friendship.</p><p>So no, she hadn't attacked, but she had not realized that any criticisms she made of that particular item would undoubtedly be construed that way.</p><p>Her criticism? She simply said that it needed washing.</p><p>Truer words had never been said. The pelt was (though she hadn't said <em>this</em>) downright disgusting. It was as dirty as one could expect—the fur matted together in dingy, stiff clumps, and so clearly discolored that she doubted it was even the right shade of green.</p><p>And the smell. The <em>smell</em>.</p><p>Perhaps if it wasn't such a lingering odor, she could have endured. As it were, there was no possible way to defend the fact that she could instantly smell when Broly had been in a room and how long ago. It was unforgivable that standing too close to him for too long would nearly send her into a state of unconsciousness.</p><p>No, this could not stand. The pelt needed to be washed.</p><p>Cheelai understood the importance of the pelt, she really did. Well, understood was perhaps not the right word. She, herself, didn't have anything of material value that she considered precious to her. For much of her life, she never had more than the clothes on her back, which were usually stolen at that. She had things that she <em>liked</em> of course, like her ray gun, or the ankle-length jacket she bought with her first Frieza Force paycheck. Even still, if she lost them or had to give them up, it wouldn't be too much of a hardship. She probably wouldn't even give them more than a moments thought before she was already plotting how to replace them.</p><p>So no, she didn't really understand having such attachments to material possessions, but she understood enough that she did not doubt that the pelt meant a lot to him. It was something special to him, so naturally he was protective of it. She understood this.</p><p>That did not change the fact that it absolutely reeked. The snowbath the pelt received while Broly was getting pummeled on Earth was not sufficient. It needed water, soap, and a very thorough cleaning.</p><p>When she told Lemo her plan, all he said was, "It's your funeral," but he didn't tell her not to. Probably because he couldn't stand the smell either.</p><p>His lack of more enthusiastic support was nerve grating, but whatever, she didn't need him. She could handle Broly. Really, he probably wouldn't even mind the suggestion so much. He had no problem bathing himself, after all. Surely he would see no difference regarding the pelt.</p><p>Or so she had thought.</p><p>"Broly," she had said one afternoon, while they both struggled to make an Earth dish called <em>sushi</em>, "We need to talk."</p><p>He stared at her for a minute. Apparently living all his life with a bastard of a father who was never all that interested in what he had to say meant that sometimes he forgot to respond verbally when addressed. Cheelai waited patiently, and tried not to show her anger at a dead man on her face. Broly didn't like it when she talked bad about his father.</p><p>Eventually, he opened his mouth and said, "Alright."</p><p>"It's about your pelt," she clarified.</p><p>He blinked. That simple action really had no business being that adorable. "Okay."</p><p>She sucked in a breath, and just decided to say it, like ripping off a band-aid. "It's filthy. We need to wash it."</p><p>She was almost shocked by how immediate his response was. "No."</p><p>"Broly—"</p><p>"No," he said and his voice was not angry like it had been the first time she tried to take the pelt from him, but the tone was still hard, the hardest she had ever heard it be.</p><p>Before she could respond, he turned and abruptly left. He didn't go far, even as someone who couldn't sense energy, she could feel his presence nearby. He never went too far away, not unless he was training with that saiyan that wouldn't stop coming around. Still, he was far enough away that he clearly didn't want to be bothered by her.</p><p>The barest bits of guilt filtered through her. Of course, they hadn't known each other that long, but even still, Broly had never been upset with her. For that matter, when people were angry with her, it was usually because she wanted them to be. She hadn't been <em>trying</em> to antagonize Broly, but she wasn't sure how else she could have said what needed to be said. She wasn't sure what to say <em>now</em> to make him stop being angry with her.</p><p>She decided to let him have his space. During that time, she built up her argument until it was flawless. She dedicated so much brain power to her argument that she was sure she would be prepared for any protest he would bring forth.</p><p>Hours later, he returned to the house. His eyes were on her the moment he walked into the house, clearly ready to continue their discussion from earlier. She was glad that at least he was not the type of person to sweep discomforting things under the rug.</p><p>"Cheelai," he said.</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>Despite addressing her, he was quiet for a moment—another thing he did, when he was trying to gather his thoughts. Eventually, he said, "Baa's ear is — special, to me."</p><p>She had already known that, but somehow, those words, the way he said it, made all the arguments in her head fizzle up and dry.</p><p>All she could say was the truth. "I know, Broly. I promise, I know."</p><p>"I don't want Baa's ear to be damaged."</p><p>"I'll be very careful," she said. Really, given how sturdy it was, she doubted she even <em>could</em> damage it. "you clean things so they look better, not worse, Big Guy."</p><p>The silence after that was a long one. His eyes never moved from hers once. She didn't move her gaze either, more than willing to allow him to read whatever it was he was trying to find. Also, because she found his eyes to be rather intriguing. She had never met a person whose eyes were so undeniably, so unquestionably, so indisputably <em>black</em>.</p><p>Black ain't a real color, her ass.</p><p>Finally, after a length of time that she couldn't determine but could've just as easily been a lifetime, he nodded.</p><p>"Come on," she said quickly, before he could change his mind, "you can help me."</p><p>He thought about it for a moment. He nodded to that as well.</p><p>He followed behind her into the bathroom. Once inside, she immediately went over to the tub, and balanced out the hot and cold water knobs. He was tense behind her while they waited for the water to fill. She decided not to draw attention to it.</p><p>She turned off the nearly steaming water once the tub was a quarter of the way filled. Then she turned to him, with an expectant look in her eyes.</p><p>He held her gaze for several seconds. Then, slowly, he started to untie the pelt. With hands that looked to be only just managing not to tremble, he passed it to her.</p><p>Surprisingly, she nearly buckled under the weight of it.</p><p>"Geez!" she exclaimed as she dropped it into the tub. "You could've warned me! This thing is <em>heavy</em>."</p><p>He did not say anything in response. She focused back on the pelt, and used her hands to flatten it out with the fur facing up.</p><p>She allowed some time to pass. Even without being scrubbed, the pelt had the water turning into hideous shades of darkening grey.</p><p>"Gross..." she couldn't help but to say.</p><p>To her surprise, he hummed his agreement.</p><p>After a while, she asked him to lift the pelt out of the water, not at all inclined to try and lift the waterlogged pelt by herself. He did, and while he held it, she drained the water, refilled the tub, and had him place it back in. After the third time, when the water only discolored slightly, she pulled out the soap and a brush.</p><p>"This is the fun part," she said.</p><p>He gave her a skeptical look, which was fair, because it was kind of a lie. There was nothing fun about scrubbing through layers of caked dirt. There was definitely nothing fun about unspeakably black bubbles trailing up to her hands. The smell wafting directly up, despite the flowery-scented soap, was probably the least fun thing she ever experienced in her life.</p><p>Even so, Cheelai was no quitter. She scrubbed and scrubbed until the brush was too thick with gunk to function. Then, she had Broly lift the pelt, refilled the water, and did it all again.</p><p>She lost count of how many times they did it until finally, <em>finally</em>, the bubbles stayed a nice white color. By then, her arms were wet up to her shoulders and had gone nearly numb. She felt more like she had run a twenty-four hour marathon than simply cleaning one piece of laundry. Surely her body had never known such exhaustion.</p><p>But it was done. It was finally done.</p><p>"Go on, smell it," she urged him.</p><p>He dutifully leaned forward and sniffed. "It smells good. Looks better."</p><p>"Damn right it does."</p><p>He poked it. "It's still wet."</p><p>Broly also liked to point out the obvious.</p><p>"Yup, and it definitely won't dry as fast as we do." She slumped against the rim of the tub. "You'll have to hang it up, though. My arms are completely beat."</p><p>He regarded her once more, his eyes seeming to take everything about her in at once. His eyes were capable of a lot of things, it seemed.</p><p>Solemnly, and with a tip of his head, he said, "I thank you, Cheelai."</p><p>She blinked. She was unsure what to say. Her motives had been, admittedly, self-serving. Furthermore, if she had known how much of a hassle it was going to be, she might have convinced him to do it himself. It didn't feel right to accept his gratitude.</p><p>Even so, she couldn't help the warmth that bloomed from the center of her chest.</p><p>She smiled and said, "I should be thanking <em>you</em>, Big guy. And anyway, aren't you forgetting something?"</p><p>She held up her hand in the 'Okay' sign. He immediately copied her. He hadn't gotten any better at it, but she felt the weight of everything he wanted to say all the same.</p><p>TBC</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Dancing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Dancing -</strong>
</p><p>Cheelai was moving... oddly.</p><p>Broly had never seen her move this way, and it didn't seem entirely necessary for her current task of cooking breakfast. Not that the food seemed to be adversely affected. The smell and sizzling of the pancakes and sausages (Cheelai seemed to greatly enjoy the earthling cookbook that had come with the capsule house), showed that the food was coming along nicely.</p><p>Yet, for some reason she was... moving. It was very rhythmic, he noticed, each motion timed almost perfectly with the music playing from the CD player machine that had come with the house (another addition Cheelai greatly enjoyed). Clearly, whatever these movements were, they were purposeful.</p><p>“<em>All the single ladies, all the single ladies. Put your hands up</em>!” said the singer, whatever that meant. Apparently the music was not entirely influencing Cheelai, because her hands did not go "up". Probably for the best—it would probably be hard to flip pancakes with her spatula swaying in the air.</p><p>The concept of music was not entirely foreign to him. There was a lot about it that was new, of course. He never knew anything about songs or lyrics or anything with actual <em>structure</em>. Even so, when he was young, he had discovered that humming different tones made very interesting sounds. He had been very enamored by his discovery, so very astonished that he could make such pretty sounds all on his own with so little effort.</p><p>Lots of things made his father angry, and he was sure that that would have been one of them. However, when his father inevitably overheard him, the man hadn't shouted at him. Instead, he had stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes clouding over as if he were in a daze, or seeing things that Broly could not. Once his father had recovered, he simply went on his way, surprisingly saying nothing about it. </p><p>Even more surprising, that very night, as they laid in their cave with a meager fire combatting the savage winds raging outside, he hummed his own tune. Each key sounded stilted, with odd pauses coming between, as if it were long forgotten skill slowly rising back to the surface. It had been the most fascinating thing Broly had ever witnessed.</p><p>His father had done that very thing many nights after that. Every time, Broly would lay his head on his chest and let the vibrations slide through his ears, letting the lull of the tune spark images behind his eyes that were so sweet they might as well have been dreams.</p><p>This motion Cheelai was engaging in, though, was unfamiliar to him. It was mainly from her waist and below, her hips shaking back and forth, her one leg popped out, guiding the movements.</p><p>They were very... interesting. He almost felt bad about having to interrupt.</p><p>"Cheelai."</p><p>She yelped loudly. She spun around, one hand flying up to grasp at her chest, as if her heart were in danger of falling out. Idly, he found it somewhat bemusing that he always managed to startle her. It was not as if he were <em>trying</em> to be quiet, and one would think that given the sheer size of him, he would be incapable of it. </p><p>That was another thing that Broly had learned, amongst the many others. He learned that compared to most people, he was quite large. </p><p>It was not as pleasant of a discovery as the others had been.</p><p>Growing up, his father had been larger than him, until their heights eventually equalled out. He did not know that height could vary so much between people. He did not know that he could <em>look</em> <em>down</em> on someone.</p><p>It was unsettling at first. He did not like how menacing he must surely look against those so much smaller than him. He did not like how fragile they looked compared to him, how dangerous he looked compared to <em>them</em>.</p><p>Lemo and Cheelai had never seemed bothered, though. They looked up at him with enough smiles and enough light in their eyes that eventually he stopped worrying over it. They were the ones that mattered after all, and if they did not feel afraid in his presence then why should he be bothered by their differences?</p><p>Looking down at Cheelai now, with her pink eyes staring widely up at him, he thought she looked less fragile and more... what was the word?</p><p>Cute. That was it.</p><p>"Broly!" she shouted, as if he erred unforgivably just by walking into their kitchen.</p><p>"I thought I would come help you," he explained. "So I can earn my 'cooking day'."</p><p>Every other day, Cheelai and Lemo swapped cooking duties. Broly helped as best he could (he had gotten quite good at rolling up the sushi meal) but anything involving stove usage or even seasonings was exceptionally challenging. He was determined to earn a spot in the rotation, though. They had already come all this way and agreed to stay with him. He didn't need them serving him on top of it.</p><p>"Oh," she said with an awkward laugh. Her cheeks started turning into that interesting red color they always did when she was embarrassed.</p><p>"What were you doing?" he asked.</p><p>The flustered look got worse at that. She sputtered for a moment, before she paused. The look on her face turned almost pensive.</p><p>“You’ve never heard of dancing?” she said in a disbelieving tone.</p><p>Dancing. He rolled the word around in his head, but he could not recall ever hearing it. In the short amount of time that they came into his life, he learned that there were a lot of things he never heard of. </p><p>He shook his head no.</p><p>She gaped at him. "Well it's, um..."</p><p>Suddenly, an impish look came over her face. "I <em>could</em> just show you."</p><p>He thought about that for a moment. Then he said, "Okay."</p><p>She looked surprised at that, and he thought that perhaps she had been joking. A moment later, though, she said, "Alright then!"</p><p>She pressed a button on the CD player, making a new song start. Then she skipped over to him. This close, he could smell the sweetness or her body soap.</p><p>With almost no hesitation, she reached out and put her hands on his hips.</p><p>"Now just follow me," she said, and began to move her own hips back and forth.</p><p>Her hands were almost ridiculously small against his body. It was nearly laughable that such small appendages thought they could force the sheer bulk of him into any kind of motion. Even so, he let her maneuver him, let the guide of her hands move his lower body from side to side. </p><p>He was aware that he was probably doing it wrong. She was giggling a bit, no doubt at the picture he must be making of himself. There was a fluidness to her motions that simply wasn't present in his. He didn't mind, though. It was an... interesting activity, he supposed.</p><p>Not quite as interesting as her hands, though. He realized that aside from the first time she touched Baa's ear, and the hug she gave him when they reunited, they never really touched each other. He found that he didn't want her to move her hands. Even when his sensitive nose picked up the smell of bitter heat, he had no desire to stop. He wanted to stay right here, doing this "dancing", until the imprint of her hands on him were so deep they wouldn't ever leave.</p><p>Eventually, though, the song ended. When the final note played out, Cheelai brought their bodies to a halt. Another song started to play, but she seemed more interested in giving him a very bright smile.</p><p>"There, now you've got the basics down!" she said, sounding very pleased.</p><p>"There is more?"</p><p>"Oh yeah, tons more." Her hands finally slid away, and a small part of him missed their weight. "Dancing is kind of like... fighting, I guess. Lots of different ways to do it, you know, depending on what you like."</p><p>Broly actually wasn't that familiar with different fighting techniques, but he figured he understood what she was trying to say.</p><p>He thought of her hands, the feel of them against him, the warmth that radiated from her body so close to his, and found himself saying, "Will you show me?"</p><p>Her jaw dropped a bit, her eyes going almost as wide as when he startled her earlier. Then her eyes darted off to the side and that flustered look came back. </p><p>"Well I mean I'm not an expert or anything," she said around another awkward laugh, one of her fingers coming up to scratch at an itch on her nose that he suspected wasn't actually there. "But, um, sure. I guess I could show you some more dances."</p><p>He found her reaction to be very strange. To be fair, there were probably a lot of things about him Cheelai found strange too.</p><p>Suddenly, her nose twitched, taking a sniff. It seemed the smell had grown enough that her senses could pick them up.</p><p>"Broly," she said, "is the food burning?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"... Did you <em>know</em> it was burning?"</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>A second of silence.</p><p>"<em>Broly</em>!"</p><p>He tried hard to feel guilty as she scrambled to salvage their breakfast. Mostly, he just listened to the song currently playing, and thought that it would be a nice one to dance too as well.</p><p>TBC</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Intoxication</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Intoxication -</strong>
</p><p>When Cheelai found the cabinet with the capsules full of alcoholic beverages, and convinced Broly to have his first taste of “the good stuff”, she honestly hadn't expected much to result from the evening.</p><p>In her defense, Broly was a <em>big</em> guy. He was a big guy, with a bigger appetite, and the biggest reserves of strength of probably any warrior in the whole universe. It did not seem outlandish to assume that it would require copious amounts of alcohol for him to even feel it. In fact, she had had half a mind to think that getting drunk would be impossible for him altogether.</p><p>She had been wrong.</p><p>She had been <em>so</em> wrong.</p><hr/><p>To be fair, Broly at least wasn't <em>that</em> sloppy in his drunkenness, which she was eternally grateful for. Admittedly, she had been a bit apprehensive once she noticed how the alcohol was beginning to affect him. Part of her couldn’t help but worry when men in general drank. The way that jerk acted in the canteen on Frieza’s ship—the day she first met Broly—hadn't been some fluke occurrence, at least not for her. She knew very well how men could get when they were deep in their cups. Not all, of course. Lemo, for one, only liked to sing songs and sleep (which he was doing right now, snoring very loudly over on the second couch), but enough that she had had to worry about it far too often. She couldn't deny that her feelings would have been very hurt if Broly turned out to be that way, too.</p><p>Evidently, though, she found herself feeling guilty for doubting his integrity. Broly was actually a rather amusing drunk. Kind of like an underage kid drinking more than they knew better too. Mostly, he sat there, staring into space while repeatedly wondering why his face felt numb. He stumbled a lot too, which was always a slightly horrifying experience for someone of her stature, but he wasn't loud or combative or anything else she didn't have the patience to deal with. Rather, he was...</p><p>Cuddly.</p><p>She hadn't expected that. Perhaps that was her own fault—Broly had proven more than once that she ought to expect the unexpected when it came to him. Even more for his defense, it wasn’t like it had come out of nowhere. Ever since the alcohol had hit his system, he had gravitated towards her. He sat closer and closer as the night progressed, brushing his feet against hers enough that her toes were warm from the contact. In hindsight, it was very clear just where exactly they would end up.</p><p>Nonetheless, she was still wholly unprepared for when he promptly laid his head in her lap.</p><p>She felt distinctly too sober for this. She hadn't, after all, had any drinks herself other than the initial sip to help Broly feel more comfortable. After analyzing her bit-too-dark of a history with alcohol, she found it to be in her best interest to simply stay away from it altogether. Never had she regretted that choice more than now. She definitely wasn't in the right mindset to deal with the situation before her. </p><p>Broly really was too cute for his own good, she couldn’t help but think as she looked down at him. He reminded her distinctly of a full-grown dog unaware that his puppy years were behind him. His cheeks were flushed a warm pink for the first time that she had ever seen. His eyes held a layer of gloss on them, so thick she wondered if he could even see her through the film. The way his eyes refused to move from hers told her he probably could.</p><p>She spent far too long staring, trying her best to catch her mind up to the current situation. It seemed more likely that Broly wouldn’t even know what cuddling <em>was</em>, much less <em>enjoy</em> it. Yet here they were. Cuddling.</p><p>She laid a hand in his hair, stroking the strands in a way that was just a bit awkward. She had never been big on cuddling; probably because she had never really been conditioned for it. She couldn't remember if her parents had ever cuddled her but given how quick they were to abandon her when their family gained too many mouths to feed, she doubted they had. Likewise, the "aunts" and "uncles" who ran the orphanage that eventually picked her up also weren't big on physical touch beyond punishments. Even once she had grown up, she had never really had any boyfriends—just a handful of one-night stands with guys who were just as uninterested in cuddling as she was.</p><p>She had never really thought about that, her inaptitude in this area, that is. Was her lap too hard? Did running her fingers through his hair even feel good? He seemed to like it, but he also seemed to enjoy tripping over his own big toe not ten minutes ago so perhaps his judgement was less than reliable right now.</p><p>... Did <em>she</em> like it? Did she like the warm, solid weight of his head on her thighs, his coarse hair on her skin?</p><p>That was a dangerous question. The whole situation was a bit dangerous, actually. It had been a long time since she had had a guy close to her like this. Particularly a guy that... looked... like Broly.</p><p>She <em>really</em> shouldn't be thinking this way. Letting these thoughts develop into <em>feelings</em> would probably be the worst thing she could possibly do. All it would result in was a whole lot of trouble. Cheelai didn't <em>do</em> feelings. Cheelai could barely manage maintaining friendships. Having a <em>relationship</em> was so outside her realm of possibility that the physical essence of the concept might as well be back on that Earth planet entirely.</p><p>Broly hummed, breaking her from her thoughts. His eyes were narrowed and his nose was scrunched up in thought. No man his age should be able to be compared to a cute little bunny rabbit, and yet here they were.</p><p>After a while, he said, "I don't think I like this."</p><p>"No?" She stilled her fingers.</p><p>"No," he grunted, sounding very dissatisfied. "I like <em>that</em>."</p><p>Her heart fluttered stupidly, just a little. She started stroking again. "What do you mean then, Big Guy?"</p><p>He said, "‘Feel... fuzzy."</p><p>"Fuzzy is bad?" she replied, her voice a light, teasing tone.</p><p>He seemed to think about that quite seriously. He said, "Moving feels weird." He demonstrated by raising his arm in the air. The motion was, indeed, very unsteady.</p><p>"Well, you could just <em>not</em> move." She pointedly did not think about how a part of her really didn't want him too.</p><p>"No. It's—it's," he huffed, looking the most frustrated she had seen him in a while.</p><p>She scratched closer to his ear. "It's okay. Tell me what you're tryna say, Big Guy."</p><p>He looked as if he were in deep thought, even as her ministrations had his eyes closing in contentment.</p><p>"Don't like not being in control," he said after a while. "Hurt people when I'm not in control."</p><p>She paused at that. Once again, he was dissatisfied, but figuring out how to word her response correctly took precedent.</p><p>"Well,” she said, gently, like her own fingers in his hair, “you're not hurting me now."</p><p>"Don't ever want to hurt Cheelai."</p><p>She smiled. "I doubt you even could, Big Guy."</p><p>He hummed in agreement. "Cheelai's too nice to hurt."</p><p>She giggled, like a schoolgirl talking to her crush. Beyond ridiculous. "You're probably the only person in the world who thinks that."</p><p>"It's true," he said, stubbornly. </p><p>He was so badly misinformed, the poor thing. She would hardly call someone like her—someone who once made a living pickpocketing and scamming, someone who threatened more people than she could count with her beloved ray gun, someone who couldn't even say that the ship she and Lemo had taken from Frieza was the <em>first</em> or even the <em>second</em> ship she had stolen—a nice person.</p><p>She tried to fit Broly into even one of those scenarios and found that she couldn't. She supposed she <em>was</em> nice to him. She didn't think that was a reflection of her, though. Rather, she thought it was a reflection of <em>him</em>. It was Broly who brought the kindness out of her. It was Broly who reminded her what it was like to simply look at the world around her and see something worth treasuring. It was because of Broly that she was able to look at him and Lemo and see <em>friends</em>.</p><p>It was Broly who was, currently, nuzzling his nose against her stomach.</p><p>"Broly?" she said, squeaking only a little.</p><p>"Smell good," he said, sleepily, sweetly, <em>dangerously</em>.</p><p>She... might be in trouble.</p><p>TBC</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Swimming</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry this took so long :(.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
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  <strong>Swimming -</strong>
</p><p>Broly could not stop staring at Cheelai.</p><p>It was a wonder how she hadn't noticed, really. The amount of time he had spent with his eyes locked on her really ought to have alerted her to his attention already. Nonetheless, she continued on with whatever conversation she was having with the woman named Bulma, and the other earthlings that seemed just as gravitated towards her words.</p><p>It was almost funny, really. For all the talk Cheelai had said about not trusting "every saiyan on some remote planet", it did not take long for her mind to change. At least, when Kakarot, during one of their sparring matches, extended an invitation from Bulma to visit Earth on a more leisurely trip, she hadn't spoken of any objections. In fact, Cheelai had clearly been more excited than anything else, going on and on about all the aspects of "normal life" she could not wait for Broly to experience.</p><p>One of those things being swimming. In fact, the only reason they and a host of Kakarot's earthling friends were even here at all was because she had convinced Bulma that a "pool party" absolutely had to be included somewhere on their itinerary simply for this lesson.</p><p>Broly had only ever been vaguely aware that such a skill even existed. For that matter, he could not understand why Cheelai was seemingly so determined for him to master it. If ever he found himself sinking through water, he could always just <em>fly</em> out of it. It seemed like a very unnecessary skill for him to learn.</p><p>In any case, he wasn't learning anything right now. No, right now, he was only staring.</p><p>It was her outfit that seemed to have so thoroughly captivated his attention. The "bikini" as she called it. The ensemble was a tight fabric, split into two halves, and a deep purple—the color she had once told him was his favorite. The bottom half was held together by two sets of strings at her hips, and covered the <em>majority</em> of her backside, but not all of it. The top half looked as if it were probably even tighter, wrapped over the mounds of her chest and behind her neck in a way that seemed... precarious.</p><p>There was nothing covering her legs. There was nothing covering her arms. There was nothing covering the soft lines of her torso. Nothing but a layer of glistening droplets of water.</p><p>He had never seen so much of her skin before, he realized. He had seen her legs, of course, when she would lounge around in a pair of comfortable shorts, had seen her arms too. Nonetheless, he had never seen her... like this.</p><p>Dimly, he wondered if perhaps it was because she was a woman that she was so... intriguing.</p><p>It was an odd notion. Truthfully, when he had first met Cheelai, he didn't entirely understand what it was that made her "female", and it never seemed like it would be a good idea to ask her. His father had discussed the topic a few times, but given that Broly had no point of reference, many of the words he used didn't really mean anything to him. </p><p>Even after they had become friends, it still did not seem like a distinction that ought to be all that important to him. He could, for the most part, tell a difference between the sexes (a skill that had further developed as a side effect of the movies Lemo and Cheelai enjoyed watching with him). Beyond that, though, he didn't see why such differences mattered.</p><p>He was seeing those differences quite clearly now. He was seeing them, and having a very, very hard time looking away.</p><p>"Geez, man, could you stare any harder?"</p><p>Broly had dimly sensed the presence of another person sidling up to him, yet he still jumped at the voice. He peered down at the man, and after a moment of thought, recalled that his name was Yamcha. Other than the initial greeting that morning, they hadn't spoken yet. Given how all of Kakarot's other friends had practically formed a line to have a chance at talking with him, he was surprised it had taken the other man this long.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"I'm just saying," Yamcha went on, a sly looking smile on his face, "If you were trying to be subtle, you missed the mark by a mile, pal."</p><p>It was then that Broly processed his words from before. "Is it wrong to stare?"</p><p>His father hadn't ever liked to be stared at. What was the point in looking if he had nothing to say, he would tell him. Maybe his father hadn't been unusual in feeling that way. Broly was still trying to mark the differences between mannerisms that were unique to his father, and mannerisms his father had because he actually experienced living amongst a society.</p><p>While he was admittedly never so... <em>transfixed</em>, it was not the first time he had stared at Cheelai, or Lemo for that matter. Their appearances were very interesting to him, so different from what he was used to seeing all his life. Even more so, it often times felt <em>necessary</em> that he kept his eyes on them. While it had been a good deal of time since he had first met them, it still sometimes felt like they were new entities, beings that would disappear if he looked away for too long.</p><p>Cheelai and Lemo had, at first, seemed admittedly a bit discomforted by the attention. They never told him to stop or said it was rude, though. He never thought it was something they were really bothered by.</p><p>Then again, he had never looked at her so <em>intently</em> before. He had never looked at her, and wondered about the other bits of her skin his eyes could not yet to see.</p><p>Yamcha, seeming to understand that Broly was not socially-trained enough to understand the camaraderie, looked distinctly as if he regretted starting the conversation. </p><p>"Well, yeah?" He seemed to think for a moment. "Well, maybe not so much if she's into it."</p><p>"'Into it'..." Broly echoed, unsure if he was understanding the concept. He probably wasn't.</p><p>"Yu<em>p</em>," Yamcha said, popping the 'p' in a way that even Broly could tell was slightly awkward. Before the silence could drag on too long though, his eyes suddenly lit up, looking well and truly saved.</p><p>"Ah, there she is now. Good luck, buddy," Yamcha said, slapping him good-naturedly on the back before sliding away. Broly wondered what it was he needed to be lucky about.</p><p>Nonetheless, Cheelai was, indeed, coming over. His eyes locked back on her, watching the way her thighs cut through the shallow water, the way her hips swayed with each step, the way her smile lit up her whole face.</p><p>"It's time for your swimming lesson!" she said brightly as she pulled up beside him, though also in a tone that seemed to dare him to argue.</p><p>He hummed in response.</p><p>"Come on, we'll have to go deeper," she said, wrapping her hand around his wrist. She led him further into the pool, until the water was up to her shoulders. The coverage made her less... distracting, but made him more reluctant to let her go, lest she somehow slipped under. That she knew how to swim was quite irrelevant as far as his irrationality was concerned.</p><p>He asked, "What do I have to do?"</p><p>"Nothing for now. We can just start off with you floating on your back for now."</p><p>He hummed again. That sounded simple enough.</p><p>Suddenly, she leaned forward, so close that her front nearly brushed his. A playful smile came over her face, though the look in her eyes held something that felt almost akin to danger.</p><p>"Don't worry, I promise I won't let you sink," she said, finishing it with an impish wink.</p><p>He wasn't sure what, but something told him that he... might be in trouble.</p><p>TBC</p>
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